Mother's Day
by CharmingFamily
Summary: Little Emma doesn't have a mother to spend this special day, but still she has her baby blanket and thousands of thoughts. And Mary Margaret doesn't have anyone to spend that special day, except for her strange feelings.


Hi all of you! This is an idea that just occurred to me, and I wanted to make it. I hope you like it, and I would be very happy to see what you think! So please, R&R? :)

* * *

It's the worst day that Emma may want. Today is Mother's Day, and Emma doesn't have one. In the orphanage that day is a lucky day for the children, because many couples go there to adopt someone. That has passed since Emma can remember, but no one ever chooses her. Just one day a couple adopted her and two other children, but they returned her a week later, because she had accidentally broken a vase very expensive. And then, no one ever take her on that day again.

That's why Emma doesn't care to get ready for people who will come. She doesn't want to see another child is lucky enough to be out of there. It's selfish, but it's very painful to see that someone is loved and she's not, and she never will be. But, as every Mother's Day, Emma can't help but spend even hours watching her baby blanket.

The little girl sits on her bed and pulls out from under her pillow her baby blanket. She clings to the fabric and carefully observes the object even if she knows it very well. That's the only thing she has from her parents, from her mother. The blanket is so beautiful that Emma always wondered if her mother took the time to make it though that makes no sense, because she was left beside a road. Her mother didn't even bother to take her to a hospital. Her mother never loved her so why she did this blanket? Why she so carefully embroidered her name?

Maybe there's a reason why she left her. Emma always wants to imagine something fantastic to not have to take over her pain of abandonment. She sometimes imagines that her mother had to leave because her evil stepmother forced her to do so and at some point she will came back for her. But she's ten years old now, and no one came for her. And she knows that nobody will come back. Those stories she makes up in her head are just that; stupid stories.

Emma looks up scratching her eyes to get the tears that had gathered. She doesn't want any child see her cry, because they wouldn't do nothing but make fun of her and her baby blanket, as always. So she grabs her backpack and places her blanket there and then put her backpack on her back and hold on to it, looking in all directions. No one is there because everyone must be busy preparing for the arrival of the people, and Emma has the advantage of running to the window, opens it and jumps out. She looks around and runs to jump the fence and continue running through the deserted streets.

* * *

After running for a while, Emma rests sitting on the park bench. She sighs a little tired and observes the scene in front of her. There are children playing with their mothers. They are waiting them at the bottom of the slide, or they play with them in the sandbox, or they just sit next to them at other banks. And Emma doesn't want anyone to see her mourn, but she still allowed some tears down her cheeks.

She's never going to have something like that. She will never have even a foster mother to treat her that way, or at least wants her. But most important of all is that her real mother, who allegedly would have loved her and not left her... she will never have her. But she has something of her. Emma quickly pulls her backpack and pulls it of inside her baby blanket, leaving her backpack aside and leaving her blanket on her lap.

Emma's fingers gently caress the blanket, as a tear falls on her name embroidered. She lets out a sob and holds the blanket to her chest, her legs up and clinging to them, burying her face in the soft fabric of her most precious treasure.

She doesn't know why she still has that blanket as the most valuable thing she has because that object does nothing but always remember her that she was left wrapped around it next to a road. No _one_ cared about her. But at the same time, she sees that beautiful blanket; her name embroidered, and can't help keep the stories in her head again as the hope. She wants so much to have a good reason why she had to leave her, or them.

She thinks in her father, too. But she feels that with her mother is something different. She was inside her for nine months, how come she has not loved her? Surely she wasn't desired. Maybe her mother never really met her because he wouldn't even see her. Maybe she was never in her mom's arms, and her father may never met her, either. Perhaps they just didn't bother to met her. Because if they had, how they had the courage to leave her alone in the world?

She looks up to see mothers play with their children. Hell, she wants something of that. She doesn't even know if her mother remembers her. Emma always asks herself if her mom remembers her on this day, thinks about her. She's her child, after all. But surely her mother never wanted to be a mother and that's why she left her, so she wouldn't think in her at all on this day. In addition, Emma feels that it is indeed so. And that can't do more than sadden her more.

What could have made her so that she didn't love her? It wasn't her fault if her father was a bastard, or if she didn't want her, she should have stayed with her, care for her, loves her. But she didn't. She didn't stay with her, she didn't love her, she didn't even bother to look for her, and she didn't even leave traces.

Emma had sought to year ago information on her origins, but she found nothing, not even a name. She doesn't even know her mom's name. She only left her with a blanket, her name, and a horrible life to live.

But though she never bothered to look for her, and she never will do, it's Emma that is going to take to get it. She's going to look her and find her, to yell her everything she has inside. She must find her to make her miserable for the life that she choose for her. She never had a real family. The only family she had ever had sent her back when they had their own child. It's clear that they didn't really loved her, either. No one in the world really cares about her, even the orphanage not even have noticed her absence.

But she lowers her gaze to her blanket again. There's a reason why her blanket have her name is embroidered. Someone took the trouble to do that. Someone who she knows that it was her mother. She appeared wrapped in this blanket that has her name carefully embroidered. And she's so angry with her mother, and she always will be. But she can't help thinking that maybe she loved her, a little. And like every year in the Mother's Day, Emma hugs her blanket tightly and looks skyward, wondering over and over again if her mother is thinking about her. If she's not doing, it doesn't matter. She just wants to say those words that every child should tell someone in this day.

"Happy Day, Mom."

* * *

Mary Margaret sits on her bed with a hand on her chest, feeling something strange. She sighs trying to soothe that feeling that haunts her every year on this day. She always wants to cry on that day, and she never knows why, so she has moved to clean house nonstop. And this day is no different.

She gets up from her bed and continues with her duster, cleaning every part of the room. She goes to the empty room she has and walks upstairs to the closet, opening it watching the dirt that it has. She sighs, knowing it's a while since the last time she cleaned it. She closes the door to fetch more cleaning objects to clean that closet, but she soon sees something in the back of the closet.

She bends down and furrows her brow trying to see what is. She extends her hand and takes the object, removing it to the light to see what it is. A newspaper... an old newspaper. Mary Margaret is astonished to realize that this is the first paper that she remembers reading.

She sits on the floor, watching the paper carefully. It's old and dirty, but she doesn't care. She quickly points out that this newspaper is ten years ago, but she doesn't remember why she kept it. But then she sees the lead story of the newspaper.

_A newborn baby was found alongside a road in Maine._

Mary Margaret smiles slightly taking a finger to the photo of the newborn. The baby is wrapped in a blanket, which seems to have something at the end embroidery. She furrows her brow trying to figure out what it is, but she can only see the letter _E_.

She believes that she kept this newspaper by that news. That news had a lot of impact to the point that she had cried reading that. She didn't know why, but now she believes that impacted anyone. How anyone could abandon a newborn baby next to a road? What mother could do something so terrible?

She quickly feels the same feeling every year, but now more enhanced. She has tears in her eyes and a huge lump in her throat. She takes a breath to try to calm her anxiety, but nothing happens. She doesn't know why.

Maybe it's because on this day she doesn't has her mother. She's an adult, but that doesn't mean she doesn't miss her mother. She doesn't remember her well because she died when she was very young, but she misses her anyway. That would be a good excuse for why she feels this anxiety, but she knows that that is not the reason. She feels lost on this day.

Mary Margaret sighs and wipes her eyes with her fists before a tear can leave out. She gets up and closes the closet and then quickly leaves the room and run downstairs.

She takes her wallet and look at the newspaper again. She didn't want to leave it so fits into her wallet and clings to it before leaving her house quickly.

She begins to walk through the deserted streets of Storybrooke. Not many people outside, but there are some people. She can see her student, Paige, taking her mother's hand and walking down the sidewalk in front. The little girl is very happy with her mother, and that quickly brings tears to her eyes.

Mary Margaret furrows her brow as she feels a strange feeling again. She sighs trying to calm down, so she goes to a bank and sit on it, placing her purse on her lap. She looks up to see Paige take a card from her jacket pocket and give it to her mother. Her mother smiles taking the card and hugs her tightly.

Mary Margaret flashes trying to scare the tears threatening to begin to cluster in her eyes. She slowly opens her purse and pulls out the newspaper, stretching it for more visibility.

The newborn baby that was born ten years ago, so it must be ten years now, as is Paige. She has a strange feeling that the baby is a girl. Mary Margaret lets her finger scroll that baby's face. How is she now? She will have found a family? She will have found her family? Maybe she's with her mother now, having a good day together. But Mary Margaret instantly feels her heart contract.

What if the baby doesn't have a family now? What if the baby doesn't even have her mother now? Before she knew it, Mary Margaret has tears running down her face. She lets out a sob watching the beautiful image of that baby as a tear falls on the center of the image.

She looks to the sky, trying to figure out why she feels that mixture of feelings. She feels alone, lost, guilty. But most important of all is that she feels she missed something. Something too valuable, but she doesn't know what is. On this day, she always felt a lot of guilt, and she always apologizes to nothing itself, because she doesn't have to apologize to anyone, but she still feels that she should do so.

Mary Margaret holds her fingers to the newspaper and presses her lips to not let out a piercing scream, for some reason. She sighs to ease her anxiety little and looks back into the sky and do what she does in this day, every year. No matter if she doesn't have anyone to tell it, she feels she has to.

"I'm sorry."

She lowers her gaze to the paper again and sighs, wiping tears from her cheeks. The brunette smiles slightly before storing the paper back and stand up. Mary Margaret starts walking towards her home again, feeling some relief.

Her feelings of guilt weren't gone, and she still feels something is missing, and she's always going to feel that. But after saying those words, she feels some relief, as if someone had heard those words and has forgiven her. It's strange, but she feels those all feelings only on this day.

She will find out why she feels this, someday.


End file.
